They Were In Bed
Under The Ceiling Light,
He Was Drawing Circus Animals
She Was Reading About Debutantes
By Anis Mojgani
I told her
Our love is our heads
placed inside the mouth of a lion
but the lion would not ever lion-bite down.
His breath is hot. We can feel it over our ears
but lion won't lion-bite down.
She responds by saying So
you are saying
we can get a baby bear?
I say
No.
Maybe a baby lion.
But the lion would be so sad
and dream of Africa she says.
What would the bear dream of then I ask.
Trees I guess. And napping.
Hmmmm I say.
She answers this non-commitment with But bears are so cute.
He could sleep in our bed.
He could sleep in our bed until he ate it, I point out.
She sighs,
turns a page in her book
and head down, says I still love you.
I can see there is something about a Russian ballroom
on the page she is reading
She asks What will you dream about tonight?
The Mediterranean I answer.
You?
Telephone poles she says. And bright blue houses
on Irish cliffs.
That's pretty I tell her.
The lion, our heads still somehow both fitting in its mouth,
manages to purr.
My whole body is warm.
My whole body is something that happens
when the trapeze becomes just a chandelier watching.
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